Day 355
by AloePython
Summary: The blond scoffed, "No one would miss me." "That's not true...I would." Roxas stopped walking.


He walked with purpose. The harsh pangs of intention in his narrowed eyes were undeniable.

No one stopped him.

He wanted them to. He wanted someone to want him to stay. He had no idea where he was going or what he was searching for, or what he would do when he got there and found it.

But he knew he wanted out.

Entangled so much by his thoughts and purposeful façade, he walked right past him.

"Your mind's made up?" he asked once the boy had passed, daring him to prove those words wrong.

Roxas skipped a step but kept walking.

"You can't turn on the Organization. You get on their bad side, and they'll destroy you..." the man stated the truth, unable to keep the pleading from his warning.

The blond scoffed. "No one would miss me." He continued walking.

"That's not true...I would."

Roxas stopped walking.

The tears he had been swallowing forced themselves over the brinks of his lids. They hung suspended in the spider web of his lashes, then jumped, and somersaulted down his face. He clenched his fists, then unclenched them. He clenched his jaw, then unclenched it. The vines constricting his empty chest cavity tightened and a whimper escaped his lips. A whimper he morphed into a roar.

"Augh- Damn it Axel!" he shouted, spinning to face the redhead. His eyes flashed in anger, his brow drawn to a point, and every muscle in his body flexed.

But for the smallest of moments his offensive stance slumped, and he looked up at his friend with a tear-stricken face.

"Why do you have to make this so hard?" he croaked, voice breaking and fists trembling.

The older man had no words. He stood helplessly mirroring the boy's despaired countenance.

Roxas turned and ran.

"Hey, Roxas-!"

The blond's footfalls were heavy on the asphalt. He didn't hear the man catch up with him and didn't know he was overtaken until the pavement came up to kiss his face.

He glanced up from his sprawl in anger to find Axel on the ground six feet in front of him, downed by the tackle.

"Leave me alone!" Roxas growled and picked himself up, running for the nearest exit.

Axel blocked his way and caught his punches. He threw a foot behind the redhead's knee, knocking him to the street, and sprinted for half a step before tumbling to join him. He kicked at the deadweight holding him down, lashing out at the man with his free foot. He landed a hit and the hand recoiled from his boot. Roxas scrambled to his feet but not before the redhead blocked his path again.

The boy screamed in frustration and pounded his fists into everything he could see beyond his blurred vision, obscured by anger and the hot tears that weren't supposed to exist. He threw punch after punch, landing them against fabric and skin, feeling the muscle ripple in the shockwave of his knuckles. The hollow thump of a chest hit clashed with the solid meatiness of a bicep blow, but both resonated in his emptiness and helped to loosen the knots inside him. Only when he realized the man wasn't fighting back did he slow.

He threw one last perfunctory punch, lungs heaving and eyes stinging. A large hand easily caught that half-ass effort and dropped with Roxas as he fell to his knees.  
He was panting in the aftermath of rage, his already short breaths hitched and ragged with tears.

"Please stay," the other man asked softly, honestly- so out of character than Roxas was forced to look up.

The green eyes were dull, worn out, fading…

"Why!" he still demanded, "Why should I? I have to know who I am! Everything is wrong here, I-"

His words dissolved on the lips now touching his and flavored the kiss with sorrow. He was suddenly aware of the hand whose thumb was stroking his cheekbone.

"Please…" Axel whispered, still clutching the flimsy punch and holding the blond boy's face. His eyes were desperate.

Roxas bit his lip, scraping the bitter taste of love onto his tongue. He sighed, closed his eyes, and fell forward.

"Take me home," he murmured into the crook of the man's neck, utterly defeated.

The redhead obliged, gently lifting him as if holding a sleeping child, ignoring the damage those little fists had done, and carried the boy away.

* * *

A/N: ugh, the angst is getting all over my shoes...-lifts foot from puddle- anyway, wrote it while playing 358/2 Days when one of my favorite cut scenes from KHII reappeared. :3


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